


In the Morning, Us

by alcxhardy



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Morning After, Sharing a Bed, there's some smut that is mentioned but its not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcxhardy/pseuds/alcxhardy
Summary: Stefon and Seth wake up beside each other for the first time.
Relationships: Seth Meyers/Stefon
Comments: 18
Kudos: 98





	In the Morning, Us

**Author's Note:**

> It is 2:40 am... I have nothing really to say about this except I very recently became aware of these two + fell in love w them and 48 hours ago the spirit of Stefon possessed me and forced me to abandon my university homework to write this... 
> 
> If you're seth meyers or bill hader please dont sue me lmao theres nothing too explicit in here i promise.
> 
> content warning for mentions of self-harm (not explicit). 
> 
> Thank you sm for reading xx

Stefon wakes up before Seth, in the early hours of dawn. Seth’s 17th floor apartment has no curtains so the sunlight is beginning to filter in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, a tiny yolk of yellow touching the carpet. Stefon has _told_ him time and time again that he needs to decorate the windows with some decals, or at least hang up some plastic bead curtains from the wrung to make the light fall through in jagged rainbows, but the windows are still bare. Bare windows, Stefon muses, are _only_ useful for exhibitionist shows: by this he means being pressed up against the glass while being positively _ravished_ for the sole purpose of providing entertainment to the office-workers in the building opposite. Alas, Seth has also refused to take him up on this offer. Something about how the workers would most likely just prefer to get their work done instead of being forced to watch two men fuck each other raw against the glass. Perhaps it’s just Seth’s fear of heights, Stefon decides, that keeps him from wanting to be that close to the sheet of glass.

At once, Stefon is aware of his legs tangled in Seth’s blankets, the ache in his thighs and the tenderness of his neck where Seth’s lips have sucked blotchy marks into his flesh. Stefon turns over; Seth is beside him. Seth Meyers is beside him. In bed. Naked in bed. Beside him. _Seth Meyers is naked in bed beside him._ Stefon inhales, wonders if this is a beautiful dream or a tragic nightmare where the bed is about to become a void and Seth will be sucked into its endless vacuole, leaving him alone like usual. But the world stops spinning after his initial grogginess of waking up, and then he focuses. Seth Meyers.  
He’s lying on his side, facing Stefon, his face peaceful with sleep. His eyelids flutter and twitch with dreams and his lips are parted ever so slightly, revealing the pink slither of a tongue behind them. Stefon notes the white patch of caked saliva that’s dried under Seth’s lips and around his chin, or is that…? Regardless, Seth still bears signs from their night together. His hair is mussed, streaking with grey at the temples (which Stefon asked to dye purple but Seth refused), and his right ear is swollen from Stefon’s teeth tugging on the lobe, biting too hard. His arms are limp, even more impressive than the arms of world-champion Russian frisbee-thrower Adrik Yahontov, who Stefon had done absinthe with many years ago behind the dumpster at ‘SCREECH’. One hand is tucked under the pillow, propping his neck higher, but the other flops in the middle of the bed and Stefon fights the urge to reach out and touch his palm, or even look at his ring finger where a silver band might fit snugly. Seth snores softly, purrs in deep exhales, much like Stefon’s beloved pug, who he’s forgotten to feed amidst the excitement of going home with his dream man.

Stefon traces Seth's neck with his eyes, noting the skin speckled with stubble, the marble-curve of his Adam’s apple, the shape of his clavicles visible under his soft skin. The heat of Seth’s skin, Stefon reminisces, is hotter than the open-flame firepit in the basement drug lab of ‘Baaaaaa’. Or perhaps it’s just Seth himself who’s hot. And the fact that last night Stefon _(finally)_ got to watch Seth’s florid face twist into expressions of pleasure as he succumbed to Stefon’s touch, come undone, his moans free as they rocked together clumsily with open mouths and hungry hands. Stefon slides his finger into his mouth, sucks it for a while; he can still taste the lingering tang of salt and sweat, and he closes his eyes as he savors the memory, blushing deeply. Seth sighs softly in his sleep, and in a moment of impulse Stefon takes his hand and holds it close to his chest. He runs his finger over Seth’s, rubbing the digits gently as he inspects them with care, the neatly-clipped-nails and tufts of hair above the knuckles, the curve of his wrist and blue of his veins, visible under the milky skin. Stefon exhales; his own wrists are decorated with white scars, and he’s glad that Seth’s don’t mirror his. He takes Seth’s hand and brings it up to his mouth, kisses softly, his lips lingering.

Seth stirs, moaning with a yawn. He rolls onto his back, mumbles something, something that sounds like _Stefon_ , but in his doze, the diction is unclear. Stefon slides closer, nudging against Seth’s side. Seth responds automatically by raising his arm to make room for Stefon’s body to curl against him. The gentle comfort of their touch makes Stefon flush with warmth; at once, he feels extremely large in the bed and extremely small in the world, snuggled up against the man he’s loved for years. He knows for certain that the bed is not about to become a void and snatch Seth away from him; they are entwined, harmonious like two roots buried in the ground, at once spreading deeper in opposite directions and growing upwards into one body.

“I love you, Seth Meyers,” Stefon whispers, but Seth is unresponsive, his chest already twitching with snores. In the light of the dawn, Stefon fights his tired eyes. He doesn’t want to succumb to the sleep that’s tugging on his lids, doesn’t want to slip away from Seth, miss the opportunity to drink the sight of him all in. But as the dawn breaks and the light creeps closer, warms their toes through the quilt, Stefon closes his eyes and focuses instead on the scent of Seth’s lemongrass soap that lingers on his skin, the graze of his hand holding Stefon’s body against him and the way their chests rise and fall in unison. Stefon knows when he sleeps, he will have no nightmares, and that when he emerges from his slumber, Seth will still be in bed beside him. He will once again wake up beside the man he loves, and it’s almost unfair that he has to fall asleep again to do it.

*

Stefon is pale in the morning. His eyeliner, scrubbed off in front of the sink the night before, still lingers in clumps of black smudge under his thick eyelashes. His cheeks are glittery, although Seth isn’t sure whether it’s from eyeshadow, lip gloss, body glitter, bronzer, or something else entirely. His usually-straight, blonde-streaked hair is ruffled and curled from the friction of rolling against the pillow in his sleep. His mouth hangs open, buck teeth poking out against the bitten-up plump lips, tongue lolling softly to the side with each inhale. Stefon’s neck is blotchy and stained with hickeys, the marks varying in size and colour like plump plums, and there’s a rash forming on his jawline from Seth’s stubble rubbing against him when he kissed him last night. Stefon’s body is tucked securely under the quilt, but the blanket exposes his torso, the milky pale of his chest, and Seth notes his nipples - which Stefon had once described as being the same color as Hex #ffb7c5 ‘cherry blossom pink’ - that hardened under the care of Seth’s tongue last night and now stand out against the tangles of hair littering his chest.

(Seth had been surprised - he’d seen the few tufts of hair poking out from Stefon’s god-awful shirt each time he saw him, but for some reason, he’d expected the younger man to be relatively hairless. Perhaps it was a lack of knowledge about gay culture, Seth mused, or the fact that he’d googled ‘twink’ and read the descriptions of gay men’s bodytypes on wikipedia [he’d quickly realised that Stefon was _not_ a twink, but perhaps an _otter_ , although by the time they were undressed he had no concrete idea about _anything_ except that the man in front of him was blushing and beautiful, sprawled out already hard and sucking his lips into his mouth watching Seth’s eyes rake over his body. Seth’s lips had parted and his eyes lingered as he noted the way that hair peppered Stefon’s torso and dragged downwards in a perfect dusting.] Stefon had pressed his hands over his face — perhaps in embarrassment — and asked ‘do you like what you see, Seth Meyers?’ and the other man had nodded eagerly.)

Stefon’s shoulders are - surprisingly - freckled, despite being hidden under long sleeves regularly. His fingernails are painted black, and the polish is chipping off on his thumbs and pinky fingers, probably littering Seth’s sheets, if the truth be known. Stefon inhales, waking up, moans gently. Seth knows if he pulls the blanket downwards, Stefon’s hips will jut out against his body as if sculpted, and they will also bear red stains from Seth’s mouth. Knowing he’s still naked makes Seth ache, but he fights the urge to expose his partner, just to catch another glimpse of his body. The light filters in through the window of the apartment, the gold lighting up Stefon’s eyelashes, the hair on his arms glowing, and Seth smiles as he rubs a finger over Stefon’s shoulder. The city correspondent rolls over, blinks his eyes open; duck-egg, and surprisingly not hazy or spaced out. Seth expects him to smile, or cover his mouth with his hands, or purr _Good morning, Seth Meyers,_ but instead, Stefon’s nose twitches, and he stays silent and still, their eyes locked together.

Stefon blinks, and a mascara-caked eyelash falls to his cheek, which Seth brushes away with the tips of his fingers, his touch lingering for a few extra sacred moments as Stefon’s eyes flutter shut.

“Are you okay?” Seth whispers, and Stefon nods timidly, as if he’s trying not to move.

Stefon’s hand brushes against Seth’s cheek, tangles in the hair at the back of his neck, and then Stefon’s lips pull into a grin, his overbite exposed for a moment before his tongue darts out and covers his teeth.

“I thought you were a beautiful dream,” Stefon hums, “or a drug-fuelled-hallucination, and if I moved, you might disappear in front of me.”

“I’m here,” Seth runs a hand over Stefon’s cheek, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Stefon breathes, and Seth nods as Stefon rolls closer and hauls his body on top of him, their skin slapping together as a result of the younger man’s eagerness for their closeness.

Pressed together under the quilt, Seth becomes intimately aware of Stefon’s bare thigh resting on his hip, the thump of Stefon’s heart against his own breast, and the way one of his hands automatically reaches to brush against his chest, the other resting on Stefon’s cheek like they’ve been doing this for years. Stefon is heavy, but the weight of his body sets Seth’s stomach fluttering as Stefon rubs against him, their hips dragging together, his eyes shining with a challenge as he bites his lip.

“What’s it like to wake up next to the hottest man in New York?” Seth jokes, and Stefon winks.

“You tell _me_ , Seth Meyers.”

They both laugh at this, deep laughs that make their bodies rumble against each other, and then Seth reaches up and kisses Stefon, taking his lips gently at first, until Stefon kisses back, hungry, responds with a gentle bite, pushes his tongue inside Seth’s mouth. It is wet, and hot, and the two of them moan like they’ve witnessed the bleeding orange of a first sunrise. Strings of saliva glisten in the space between their lips like dewing spiderwebs as Stefon pulls his open mouth away and meets Seth’s eyes again. His lips shine with spit and draw up at the corners into a genial smile, tender.

“Good morning, Stefon,” Seth inhales. “It’s a beautiful morning to wake up to you.”

“New York’s luckiest couple is _us_ ,” Stefon murmurs, swooping back down to press their lips together once more.


End file.
